


Kittybitch

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Dubious Consent, F/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurloz had a religious experience, and undwent a spiritual transformation. His first order of business is to mold himself a worthy Disciple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kittybitch

On the twelfth hour of the sixth night, Kurloz emerged from his tent. Hidden from the light of the pink moon, only the whites of his makeup and the skeletal marking of his most festivious mummer's garb could be seen.

The one he once called Matesprit stood waiting for him- wet, and shivering from exposure. Her mane of hair clung to her face and her back. Her grey skin was deathly pale, and almost completely without lustre.

I WAITED FOR YOU, MY LOVE

Her voice cracked, broke, and tripped over its own pitch, like cymbals dropped clashing into a quarry. With her hearing gone she had no way to regulate her voice. Kurloz stepped forward, and she shrieked.

MY LOVE, WHAT DID YOU DO?

His white-painted lips were pierced, sewn shut with thick, black cords of thread, still scabbed over from when he'd punctured through the flesh with needles of bone. Kurloz smiled, the threads through his lips pulled tight by the gesture. He smiled, put his finger to his scabbed lips, and then pointed at Meulin's head.

YOU DID IT...FOR ME? OH, MY LOVE.

Her cry was grating, unpleasant. Kurloz frowned as she ran to him, threw her arms around him.

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO GO SO FAR.

She rubbed her cheek against his. She was wet. The tears down her face made her even wetter. Her wetness and the rubbing was smudging his sanctimonious head paint. Kurloz held her by the shoulders and pushed her to at arm’s length.

WHAT IS IT, MY LOVE?

My love, my love, my love, again and again in that shrieking chaotic voice, all up and dampening his divine harshwhimsy.

Kurloz held out his hand, offering her to take it. He had to nod at it thrice before she took hold of it. Once they were connected, he tapped into the righteous ancestral miracle his lord had unlocked within him, and spoke straight between her mind and his with sweet whisperings of the holy chucklevoodoos.

_Now are you all up in there and hearing my true voice?_

KURLOZ?

_Speak your mind to me. Stop flapping your noise hole. Later, we can look deep down and find ourselves a less conspicuous way to exchange the sweet knowings between us in front of our heathen brothers and sisters not yet ready for the messiahs' embrace._

_Then my thoughts are naked before you._

_Excellent, my mage_

_Mage?_

_Hush, before your hole digging secret cravings land you in the motherfuck of a dusty tomb._

_Forgive me, my love_

_For days and nights I meditated on my vision. It became clear to me, and I saw what I did see in that sinistacular dream of sky. I saw the LORD, and through him I knew of all that is important to come. In those times to come, our fishy false empress will descend from her dandy pink moon, and there will be a rapture and there will be a reckoning. You are my mage, and you will help me prepare for the coming of the angel of double death. It will take many sweeps. You are a weak thing. Not even in a state to be assisting the brought aboutness of the angel of double step's doormat. Do not be afeared my wide eyed ninjette, you are nothing before these mental hands of my ancestors. Nothing but a toss of wet clay slapped against the table. I can make you who you need to be, and together we can help those other ten of us born already reckoned to be exactly the who that they need to be, and not a harlequin droplet more._

_What do you n33d me to do?_

_Not a single thing at all just yet, my loyal but not at all ripened companion. All that you need to be up and the motherfuck doing is lettting me shape you, like wicked elixir shaped by a bottle, yet here it's the bottle that is you being shaped by the elixir. Is that not a perfect miracle?_

_I understand, my love._

_Now ain't that the jester's shoes. Now look at the wet miserable sack of gaper clogger state that you all be in right now. Step into my tent, loyalest ryder, let it not be said by any motherfucker that your prince is an unexcellent host._

Kurloz returned to the humble shelter, made from tanned leathers, dyed vivid reds and oranges and blues.

_Please, step into my tent._

He repeated himself, unspoken words echoing in the recesses of Meulin's mind. His tent looked so inviting, and it would be rude to say no. She got down and crawled inside.  
The tent floor was littered with bloody bandages, broken needles, and smears of paint. The air was languid with the stink of sweat, blood and isolation.

_Sit._

Kurloz pushed her so she fell, hands first to the far end of the tent. Kurloz followed, shut the tent flap behind him and sat down, cross-legged.

_You must be uncomfortable, my sweet ninjette. Those clothes be all kinds of wet and worthless. Take them off._

Meulin hesitated as she reached for her collar. Something wasn't right. She'd undressed for Kurloz many times before; they were lovers after all, so why did this feel unnatural? She shook her head and peeled off her wet clothes, tossing them with a splat to an unoccupied corner. She looked back at Kurloz, drawn to his impassive, painted face. He closed his eyes and nodded. Meulin stripped of her leggings. She sat before Kurloz, naked as the day she pupated, shivering and hunched up with her rain-slicked hair hanging down her shoulders.

_There, Is that not better? You must be hungry too, for all the waiting you just did on my behalf. I got just the very thing for filling your gut cavity._

Kurloz retrieved something from the tent's corner- a jar, filled with colored liquid and a single piece of meat.

_Here, eat this._

He handed Meulin the jar. The top came off easily. The smell of sugars and syrups filled the tent. Meulin reached into the jar, past the thick, slimy congealed fluid, and plucked out the lump of meat inside. It sat, cold in her hand, one end torn up like it had been cut with a rusted saw.

_This- this is-_

Kurloz smiled, the gesture stretching his stitches taut.

_I said do not speak the out loud words. You are hungry. I have here a wicked morsel, flesh that has sinned and might sin again if righteous measures don't be taken._

Meulin lifted the severed appendage to her mouth and gulped. Her hand trembled, and her head writhed like it was trying to escape her body.

_Eat my motherfucking tongue, before it says something else it never should._

Meulin's jaw forced itself open, and her hand shoved Kurloz's cold, severed tongue in her mouth. It tasted like congealed faygo and sour meat. She wanted to gag, but couldn't, mustn't. Her sharp teeth sliced up his tongue, tore it to pieces in her mouth. One by one the meaty slivers slipped down her throat as soon as they were small enough. Chew chew, swallow swallow, bit by bit she consumed his severed tongue; she could feel each piece on its way down- from the coldness and the wetness that passed down her throat. Later, too much later, the morsel was finally finished.

_There. Now wasn't that just straight up delicious?_

She wanted to gag, tried to, but the reflex had shut down on her.

_Thanks. Thanks for. The meal._

Her brain was grinding, the mental friction of every thought lit her head up like a fire and trying to think about how her head felt only made that fire burn. Easier to just let go. Some thoughts were easier to form than others. Just let those happen.

_And what a gracious motherfucker of a host I am.Now how about you, girl? You wh goes calling me 'my love'? Are you prepared to sacrificing everything for me? For our lords?_

Each unuttered word of his resounded about her head like the tolling of bells. Words slipped away from her grasp.

_I-_

The words were hard. Why were they so hard? What was it that made them so heavy on her mind? There was something being overlooked, some small thing supposed to be considered before agreeing to a think like this. 'Do I...?' Do I what? Do I actually want-‘

Fire and sparks light up her brain. Everything is like snow. Then it snaps back. Things make sense again. How on Beforus did they ever not?

_I do._

_Of course you do. You are my mage. You are mine and mine alone and through me you serve the highest motherfucker of all. Look at you, wet, naked, the stink of raw meat on your mouth. You're not a troll. You are not even a pet. You are just some feral beast that I deigned make use of, to catch the wretched squeakbeasts trespassing on our Lord's garden._

_Yes, my juggaliege._

_Now, kneel._

She bent her knee, crouching down with her head lowered before the stitched up mummer.

_I got just the thing for you._

He reached for a pile of innocuous objects beside him, rummaged through it, his eyes not looking away from the naked troll before him. After just a few moments he plucked out a strip of leather, a bone needle, and a length of thick thread. Deftly, the Capricorn troll threaded the needle, then pulled it through. The sound of coarse thread against leather was like a zip being pulled up, or a coiled cable rubbed against a tree fork, grating against the silence inside the tent. The strip held in one hand, Kurloz reached for Meulin with the other. His bony fingers squeezed tight against her frail neck, and pulled her close. She gulped, and weakly gasped, but did not struggle against his hold. She didn't even think to.  
With her head held in place, Kurloz wrapped the strip of leather around her neck, took the thread-dangling needle at its end, and without finesse sewed the strip into a band. More than once the jagged needle caught against her soft neck, each time it drew blood and each time she squeaked in pain, but not protest. Droplets of olive spattered down her neck and across the mime's covered fingertips.

_And there we do up and have it. A hocked together collar for my hocked together kittybitch._

Kurloz pulled on the leather collar like he was lifting an animal by the scruff, testing his handiwork. Meulin gagged, the collar pulling right against her larynx.

_And ain't that the pious noise._

Kurloz smiled. He let go of her collar and held her face with both hands, squeezing her skull.

_That's right, kittybitch. You're just a pukeblooded beast right from the forest. You should act more like it._

His eyes opened wide, staring right into hers. His psychically projected words bore into her mind, carved out useless softness and embedded themselves deep within her basest instincts. Meulin returned Kurloz's stare, transfixed, and smiled. It was a vacant smile, and her lip curled with it to expose her fang-like canines

_Furry well, my mercyifful prince. Your kittybitch is no diffurent from any clawmmon beastie. I purrmise to nefur furget it._

_Church indeed._

Kurloz sat back down, and leaned back in his corner of the tent. His hand idly found its way to his crotch and gave it a squeeze.

_Kittybitch, look at you. Naked as the night you pupated. You like it. It makes you all excited. Like a beast in the throes of calefactious vapours. Show me how badly you want to breed._

_If that will amews you._

Meulin turned herself around on all fours, crouched down low, and raised her bare ass in the air. Everything felt like mist. She smelled her own arousal in the enclosed tent air, though she couldn't say why. She wiggled her ass- playfully?- from side to side, and felt her growing wetness start to trickle towards her thigh. Things like that didn't matter. She wanted to be touched. Maybe if she was good, her prince would touch her some more. Kurloz stood up.

_A kittybitch just is not right without a tail._

He slapped her back, right at the base of her spine. Meulin arched her back at the touch, thrusting her ass up higher. He slapped her on the thigh next, slapped it hard and gave it a squeeze, before sliding his hand along. His hand found her puffy, engorged pussy, slick with olive fluids. Meulin gasped at his rough touch. Her legs trembled, stretched to her tiptoes. He dipped his finger in, swirled it around between her soft folds. Her voice hitched, but he paid it no regard.

Once satisfied with the juices wetting his finger, Kurloz slid it out, and pressed it against the puckered entrance of Meulin's asshole.

_Just not right at all._

With one rough shove, he forced his finger in down to the last knuckle. Although the olive juices helped ease their passage, Meulin still cried out, and squirmed at the painful intrusion.

_You will be right soon, though; my perfect little kittybitch ready to do our one true messiah's work._

He continued to pump his finger in and out of her, completely oblivious to her discomfort.

_Do you have any idea what I have gone through, what I will go through because of you and those other ten mirthless fools? For three sweeps we have been cursed to wander the wilderness. Three sweeps of slowly carving you all into the perfect pawns for our Lord. My rage, my fury would drive me now to hack your flesh away and eat you raw, such agonies you have caused me._

Kurloz pulled out his finger, still slightly moist. He gave Meulin's ass a hard slap, hard enough to leave a mark and make her whole body jump.

_What do you want?_

Kurloz demanded. He parted the fly of his suit's crotch, and tugged out his dick.

_Purrlease, hurry. Kittybitch needs it so much._

Kurloz stroked himself, taking his time as he got into position. Meulin waved her ass at him to and fro, desperate for more contact, but he easily kept them from touching, not until he was ready.

_You want to feel me inside you. You want to use your body like the beast you are, kittybitch._

He rubbed his dick up and down her slit, testing the pitch of her whimpers. When she hit just the right tone that pleased him, Kurloz shoved his full length right into her generously wet snatch. Meulin cried out again. The intrusion split her apart right from within, the Capricorn's girth scraping against the back wall of her pussy in her upturned position. With an agonizing lethargy, Kurloz placed his hands on her hips and slowly pulled her off him.

_No. Come back._

Kurloz leaned forward down her back, his dick meticulously kept just barely inside her, and shifting with each movement. With one hand still squeezing her hip, he grabbed the back of her makeshift collar and pulled, at the same time he pushed back inside her. Meulin keened and gasped against his hold. They were both upright now, Kurloz pressed neatly into the curves of her back. He fit her like a skeletal mantle.

_You want it harder, rougher._

Kurloz pumped into her; short, fast thrusts that slapped her ass against his black-clothed thighs, seeping the fabric with her juices.

_Purrlease, more._

_Stop saying stupid shit and scream for me._

He let go of her collar, let her droop for a second, then yanked her up by her hair. He pulled it all the way back so her neck was bent backwards and when she did scream it came out gurgled.  
Kurloz laughed; a psychic lashing against Meulin's mind that punctuated each rough thrust.

_What does the Kittybitch say? What does the motherfucking Kittybitch say?_

_P-purrlease._

Kurloz yanked harder on her hair.

_Kittybitch only uses words when pretending to be a troll. When it' just Kittybitch and her Prince, Kittybitch talks like the beast she is. Now what does the Kittybitch say?_

M33OW!

She screamed, olive tears running down her face.

_That right!_

Kurloz thrust deep into her, his other hand going from her hip to harshly grope her breast. His face split open in an anguished groan. His lips tore at the seams but did not split. Purple blood stained his lips. Matching fluid spurted into Meulin's cunt and, filling her insides and dripping down her thighs. The inside of the tent was a nightmare. Psychic discharge made everything monstrous and even the patches on the ceiling glowered menacingly.

Meulin was limp and twitching in Kurloz's arms. He pulled out without ceremony and let the two of them drop onto a pile of rags in the tent's corner. Meulin's eyes fluttered, dilated and hardly seeing.

(^._.^) WOAH I, DID SOMETHING JUST HAPPEN? WHY IS EFURRYTHING SORE?

She looked around vacantly and rubbed her arm, her voice as unmoderated as before.

Kurloz shook his head and placed his finger on her lips. He held her chin in his hand and kissed her. She didn't notice the blood on his lips, or hers now. She didn't notice the stink of sex and violence hanging like fog in the tent. She didn't notice anything but her Prince, not even her own mind.


End file.
